


Harry Potter and Music's Magic

by Guardian_of_Hope



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Manipulative Dumbledore, Time Travel, Wrong Boy Who Lived, magical music, redo fic, special magic, twin!harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-07
Updated: 2014-06-23
Packaged: 2017-12-31 18:10:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1034792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guardian_of_Hope/pseuds/Guardian_of_Hope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This isn't meant to be a story of abuse.  This is the story of a child celebrity's not famous sibling, and what the effects of that could possibly be.  This is the story of a grandmother so caught up in morning what she has lost that she forgets what she has.  She doesn't mean it, but it's happening.  This is the story of a father who is stern, and believes in corporal punishment.  He goes a little far sometimes, and that probably pushes the line into abuse, but it's not lost-temper-beat-the-shit-out-of-him-repeatedly sort of thing.</p><p>It's about parents and guardians who don't mean it, but slip over the line into the territory of abuse, and three young men who have found something, in each other and themselves, that helps them deal with that.</p><p>It's about coming back in time to fulfill a prophecy they weren't supposed to know about.</p><p>It's about awakening family magics some say are better left forgotten.</p><p>It's about music and healing and the Gods of old.</p><p>Mostly, it's about friends and family.</p><p>NOTE: THERE IS SELF HARM IN CHAPTER ONE AND IT IS ALSO DISCUSSED LATER ON.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not going to write long, drawn out author's notes justifying everything that you see. I'll answer some comments if necessary, but it's my hope that the story itself will explain things. This is not the story of an abused child. This is the story about being young and making mistakes, both as a teenager and as a parent. This is about second chances. Dumbledore is manipulative in this story, but not evil. He's old, and afraid of change, and wants his legacy to be about a LIght victory and that's what drives him.
> 
> I told a friend that this story consists of a lot of my favorite tropes thrown in a blender with the alphabet, and that's about accurate. You might notice the tags update as I think of more things to add to it.  
> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and unless I specifically state otherwise, the lyrical poetry stuff is mine.

__

_Do you really want to play,_  
Play that game?  
Do you really want to seek,  
Seek the same?  
Are you ready for that pain?

Evan James let his voice trail off with the music, smiling shyly as the room erupted into cheers. It had been a hard year, but this was what made it worth it, this crowd of people cheering for him and his music. He slid the microphone into its stand, "All right everyone," he said as the cheering began to quiet down, "As I told you that was the last song of the night. Thank you all for coming out, I'm Evan James." There was more clapping and cheering and Evan headed off stage to where his best friends were waiting.

"Good show, mate," Nate said as he slapped his shoulder, "you really had them going."

Evan grinned, "It was the best kind of show, I think."

"If you were single," Reggie said as he fell in on Evan's left, "you'd probably have your pick of the girls out there."

"But I'm not single," Evan said as he pushed open the backstage door, "and I don't want just any girl."

They headed across the back lot of the club as the band inside started up again. "That was my last gig," Evan said, turning to grin at his friends, "starting next week it's concerts and recording studios and more money than the Malfoys."

"I dunno, I think Lucky Lucy could give you a run for your money," Reggie said.

"He could," Nate said, "if he cared to covert his money." He reached up and rubbed two fingers over his cheekbone.

"Hey mate," Evan said, catching Nate's hand, "you're the one who wanted that transdermal whatever piercings, stop toying with it."

"They're anti-eyebrow microdermal piercings," Nate muttered as he freed his hand, "I'm thinking about getting another one, actually."

"Are you finally going to get your PA?" Reggie asked as he pulled out the car keys.

"Is this were I point out that I don't want one of those?" Nate asked, "I'm thinking in my nose, actually, either that or my lip."

"If your grandmother could see you now," Evan said as he stole the keys from Reggie and scrambled into the driver's seat.

Evan glanced up at the rearview mirror, taking in his own green eyes and auburn hair before adjusting it so that he could back out. He still wasn't sure how he'd managed to get so lucky as to be able to spend his life with his two best friends. There had been a time when he'd been half convinced they wouldn't survive school, much less manage their escape.

"Earth to Evan," Reggie said, tapping Evan on top of his head, "You in there?"

"Yes, sorry," Evan replied, "just thinking about school."

"Why would you be thinking about that?" Reggie asked, "I intend to forget I ever went there."

Evan shrugged as he pulled out into traffic, "Just thinking how ten years ago, I was afraid that I'd wake up and one of you wouldn't be there."

"You were afraid?" Nate said, "We almost lived that nightmare,  _Harry."_

"I know," Evan said, "I know,  _Neville._  I'm sorry. We all had our demons back then, didn't we?"

He couldn't look, traffic in Miami wasn't ever kind to distracted drivers, but he knew that Reggie and Nate were both probably running restless fingers over hidden scars. Evan's fingers twitched and he wanted to pull off the leather wrist cuffs that hid the worst of his scars. Not that he would, Evan had spent years learning that the moment you least wanted it; someone would be taking your photograph.

"I've been thinking," Evan said as he guided the car up the A1A towards home, "I want to invest in a flat. How do you feel about moving to South Beach?"

"The woman will be pretty," Reggie said.

"It won't be Key West," Nate said, "but I guess the alcohol will be nice enough."

"I thought you hated Key West," Reggie said.

"No, that was me," Evan said. "Although the tips were pretty nice down there and all; I'm just not the island type, I guess."

"I liked Key West," Nate said smugly, "and Key West liked me."

"Yes, we know," Reggie said, "you got laid in the Keys."

"About South Beach," Evan cut in, hoping to get around another bragging session. The conversation meandered for the entire drive home, only to be forgotten when they arrived at the large townhome that had been theirs for almost a year.

Waiting for them by the front door was a tall woman with curly brown hair and a worried expression. "Can I help you?" Evan asked as they approached the woman.

"I'm sorry," the woman said, "I'm looking for Neville Longbottom."

"Shh," the three men said in unison, making the woman flinch.

"I'm Nate Long," Nate said, "come in and explain what this is about." He opened the door and gestured the woman in.

Under the brighter lights on the staircase, Evan realized he recognized the woman, "Hermione Granger," he said quietly.

Hermione stared at him for a moment, and then Reggie, "I'm sorry, but who are you?"

Evan smiled, "Most people call me Evan James now." He gestured, "Come up stairs, have a cup of tea, and tell us why you came looking. I'm sure that unless Gwarp is charging Miami, we have time for tea."

"He's right," Reggie said, "come on, this isn't a mudblood free zone, you know."

Hermione followed them up to the living room, "You're Harry and Draco?" She said after a moment.

"Evan James," Evan said, "I don't use that name any more."

"Reggie Black," Reggie added. "I definitely don't use that name."

"Sorry," Hermione said, "I just, I can't believe I found you."

Evan looked up from where he was collecting cups from the living room. Hermione's shoulders were shaking as she watched Nate put the kettle on. "Hey Hermione," he said, reaching to touch Hermione's shoulder gently, "What's wrong?"

Hermione burst into tears and Evan pulled her into a hug. "I'm sorry," she sobbed.

"It's ok," Evan said, "you're safe here, I promise. Just let it out, ok?" He squeezed lightly and began rubbing small circles onto her back, "Just let it out, Hermione, it's ok."

By the time, the teakettle whistled, Hermione was calming down, "I'm sorry," she said.

"You needed that," Evan said, "now come have a seat and tell us what's going on, hmm?"

Hermione allowed herself to be steered to their couch. "Harry, I mean Evan," she said, "I-I don't know where to start. I mean, it's such a shock and I think you should know before they find you and Dumbledore is acting so strange, I just don't understand."

"Hermione," Evan said, "what's going on?"

Hermione took a shaky breath, "Vol-Voldemort killed Patrick. The Ministry thinks Dumbledore made a mistake about who survived the killing curse and they're looking for you. Voldemort's taken the ministry. It's awful, nobody knows what's going on or what to do, and the Muggleborns."

Evan sat back, keeping one hand on Hermione's knee. Patrick was dead. Patrick, the thorn in his side, pain in the butt older brother was dead. Evan wondered what he was supposed to feel upon hearing that the twin he hadn't been close to since the first time they'd seen the flash of killing curse green was dead.

"The ministry is coming for Evan?" Reggie asked, jolting Evan out of his thoughts.

"They're looking for him," Hermione said.

"Were you followed?" Nate asked as he came out of the kitchen with mugs of tea in hand.

"I don't know," Hermione admitted.

The three exchanged looks and then Neville put down the mugs and Evan stood up. "There's something we need to do before anyone else shows up," Evan said, he offered his hand to Hermione, "will you help us?"

Hermione took Evan's hand and stood up, "What can I do?"

"Add three ingredients to a potion while we're casting a spell, then handing each of us a dose when it's done." Evan said.

"I can do that," Hermione said.

"Thank you, Hermione," Evan said as they headed into the large laundry room.

There was a small silver cauldron on the tile floor that Reggie was examining. Evan let Hermione join him as Nate brought in their wands. "It's almost ready," Reggie said as he took his wand from Nate.

"What do I need to do?" Hermione asked, "I don't recognize this potion."

Reggie smiled, "There's a book under the mattress in the master bedroom, and it has the potion and spell in it. You can look later. For now, what you do is, when we start casting, you put in this cup," he pointed to the red cup on the dryer, "and stir sixteen times clockwise. Then you put in the green cup and stir seven times counter clockwise, then you put in the blue cup and you stir until it becomes clear. Then you add the yellow cup, stir three times clockwise and then ladle out three shot glasses," Reggie gestured to the shot glasses also on the dryer, "and that's it." He pointed at the back wall of the laundry room, "There are the instructions again."

"Ok," Hermione said.

A soft gong ran through the room and the three men exchanged looks, "Someone just apparated nearby," Evan said quietly.

"Could just be a neighbor," Nate replied.

"Let's just do this," Reggie said.

They raised their wands, touched the tips together, and began to chant.

The spell they were invoking was long and required to be spoken in unison. They had practiced it for hours until this moment came. They'd found the spell and potion in an old book in Reggie's family library, just as Evan had found the old journal that had inspired their adventures in Miami. Nate had found the spells that had hidden them so well, although only Evan had changed his looks so drastically. As they entered the second part of the chant, Evan reflected that it was amazing what time had done for them. Reggie had stopped using hair products and his hair had turned honey blond almost overnight. That and the fact that Reggie had relaxed enough to laugh and tease his friends made him a different person from who had once been. Nate had not changed much, he had started going to a gym and traded his baby fat for muscle. Other than his habit of getting tattoos and piercings, Nate's greatest change was his self-confidence. It had blossomed as Nate realized how much his friends cared for him. Evan knew that he had changed to, not just changing his hair and getting contacts, but the way he stood, the way he interacted with others, it was different.

None of them were liked the three boys who had vanished when their NEWTs arrived. They didn't have to be.

Finally, the spell was done, and Hermione was handing over the shot glasses that they threw back, still in unison.

They set the shot glasses on the washer as a louder gong rang through the townhouse. "Visitors," Reggie said as he swayed.

Evan turned to Hermione, "Thank you, Hermione. You'd better get out of here fast. That was the intent ward. Someone with magic is headed this way. They're about half a kilometer out. We'll be fine."

"Thanks for warning us," Nate said.

"We'll see you soon," Reggie said. "Get the book, and the trunk, from the master bedroom and go."

"Ok," Hermione said, hurrying out of the room.

"Good thing she trusts us," Evan muttered as they all sat down on the ground. His eyes felt heavy so he closed them, "Anne's going to be pissed."

"No worries mate," Nate replied. "I'm sure she'd understand."

There was a crack of apparition and then a third gong.

"Later," Nate said.

The world went black.

_It is Christmas, Harry is five and holding one of the few presents with his name on it. Rick is tearing through a small mountain of gifts. Lily and James are watching as Rick works his way through the pile. They haven't noticed Harry really, beyond giving him a cup of chocolate milk and a plate some sausage wraps on it. Harry begins to open the gift, wishing his dad was joking about what he'd gotten or his mum was taking his picture. Nobody looked as he opened the gift, it was a book; The Tales of Beadle the Bard._

_It's Spring and Neville is eight. He knows his gran would disapprove of him getting muddy, but Neville wants to see the plants. He stands at the window and stares at the back garden._

" _Your grandson is well, I trust?"_

_Neville hesitated, looking back over his shoulder, but Gran and Ms. Muriel weren't coming into the drawing room._

" _As well as can be expected," Gran replied with a soft sigh._

_Neville could hear her disappointment. He knew she was starting to believe that he would be a squib. Neville headed for the door, he did not want to hear this._

_"Draco, it's time to come inside."_

_Draco is ten and ready to go to Hogwarts, "In a minute, Mother," he calls, staring at the sky. There, there is his constellation._

" _Draco, don't make me tell you again," Narcissa calls._

_Draco flinched, but turns to run inside, "Can we go to Diagon Alley tomorrow?"_

" _Maybe," Narcissa said. "We'll see what your father says."_

_Draco skipped in happiness, he loved Diagon Alley._

" _Malfoys do not skip, Draco," Lucious said as he came out of his office, cane in hand. "Do we need to discuss this again?"_

" _No sir," Draco said._

" _Very good."_

" _Is that Patrick Potter?" Someone said._

_Harry flinched, wondering why he'd decided to walk beside Rick as they headed to the Hogwarts Express. Someone had noticed, soon, there would be reporters, and he doubted his parents would let him escape. They'd said it often enough, that he could duck some photos, but not all; otherwise people would worry._

_It was tough being the identical twin of Patrick 'Rick' Potter, the defeater of Voldemort and the only known survivor of the killing curse. It was bad enough, in Harry's opinion, to be a Potter without being a celebrity also._

_Draco hated the Slytherin dungeons. There were no windows in the dorm._

_It was his second year in Slytherin, and Draco knew he could survive that. He wasn't sure he could survive his potions partner; Snape had assigned the extra Gryffindor to him. Especially given that it was one of the Potter twins. At least it was the quiet one, Harry, and not his braggart of a brother, Rick._

_Draco remembered the warning hissed in his ear about treating Harry right. Draco had thought that Rick hated his brother, given the way he usually talked about Harry. It was noteworthy._

_The words bounced through his mind like stone,_ worthless, stupid, squib, weak, coward _, they wouldn't leave him alone. They hounded him with all the fury of a pack of Hell Hounds. There was only one way to make the words go away and Neville gripped his razor in his shaking hand like it was a lifeline._

_He slipped into the bathroom, relieved that this late, or this early, it was nearly five am, all of his dorm mates would be sleeping. Neville sat down on the bench in the middle of the room and lifted the blade. His hand stilled and he made the first cut. There was no pain, only a moment of silence as if the bright red blood were pulling away one of the words._

_The bathroom door opened and Neville looked up, terrified. It was Harry. There was a glint of silver in one hand, and Neville could see the thin red lines on his arm, not unlike his own._


	2. Malfoy Morning

Reggie groaned as he woke up. Nate must have opened his curtains again; the brat was sadistic enough to do it after a night at the club. He could almost taste the whiskey and smoke, meaning he really needed to shower and brush his teeth. Reggie opened his eyes and stared. He was not looking at the white ceiling of his room in the townhouse, but at a ceiling painted with stars. He hadn't seen that ceiling in years.

Reggie sat up and gripped his head as a headache came roaring to his attention. After a moment, he opened his eyes and stared, because this was his room at Malfoy Manor. "What did I do last night?" He whispered.

His eyes fell on his old Nimbus 2001 and memory asserted itself; Hermione, the death of Rick Potter, the potion.

Reggie fell backwards on the bed,  _We did it._  He thought.  _We bloody well did it._

Reggie wanted to laugh, but knew that he might be watched, so he didn't. Instead, Reggie rolled out of bed and headed for the bathroom.  _I have to remember that I'm Draco Malfoy again._  He thought as he entered the white and black marbled room,  _I'm no good at occulmency, and if Snape, Dumbledore, or Moldy-shorts figure out I think of myself as Reggie Black, the gig will be up._

Showered and dressed, Draco stepped back into his bedroom, wondering what day it was. His body, the broom, and the lack of certain trinkets said he was about thirteen years old, and it was very clearly summer.

The door to Draco's room banged open and Lucius stormed in, "Father," Draco said, and winced as his voice broke.  _Puberty, again, how lovely._

"Can you explain this?" Lucius asked, thrusting a scroll at Draco.

Draco took the scroll and opened it.

_Draco Regulus Black_

_HAPPY BIRTHDAY_

_Mischief Managed_

_Harry James Potter_

There was a sketch of a dragon playing a guitar at the bottom of the scroll.

Draco grinned for a moment, and then looked up as Lucius cleared his throat. "Harry Potter is my potions partner," he said, "we did a partner potion for extra credit, it was a sort of reversal potion but when it's give to someone not already enchanted it causes them to walk and speak backwards. We had some left after turning in our extra credit. Potter took some home with him to prank Perfect Patrick Potter. He was just letting me know that he pulled it off."

"I see," Lucius said. He stepped back, "Be careful about associating with Mister Potter, Draco, but continue to do so. Our Lord might find your connections helpful in the long run."

"Yes Father," Draco said.

"Do not take too long to write him back," Lucius said, "your mother is waiting for you to come down to your Birthday Breakfast."

"Yes, Father," Draco said.

When the door was shut behind Lucius, Draco relaxed for a moment, and then hurried over to his desk. If Harry had sent him the first letter, then Draco would have to let Neville know. In minutes, his owl, Armand, was heading off with the two notes attached. Then Draco checked his image, wrinkled his nose at the sight of his white hair, and headed down to breakfast.

Breakfast in the Malfoy household was easily the warmest meal; Lucius seldom ate with them, leaving Draco and Narcissa to discuss their daily routine. Lucius might eat with them once a week, but he always appeared on the important days, birthdays, Lucius and Narcissa's wedding anniversary, and certain holidays. When Lucius wasn't there, Draco and Narcissa could speak, if not warmly, then with more familiarity than Lucius permitted.

Of course, Draco knew that after his fourth year, a lot of things changed. With the return of Riddle, the familiarity that Narcissa had once allowed him had faded away as Riddle's control of their lives grew. When Bellatrix had arrived, it was all Draco could do to stay home until he had his NEWTs. "Aunt" Bellatrix had been mad, driven so by her Lord, Azkaban, and her own sadism, and Draco feared her more than Riddle in some ways.

Draco shook off the memories and walked into the dining room where Voldemort had once killed the Professor of Muggle Studies.

"Draco," Narcissa said, "good morning."

"Good morning, Mother," Draco replied, moving to kiss his mother's cheek before taking his seat. "How are you this morning?"

"I am well, and yourself?" Narcissa replied.

Draco allowed himself to smile, "I am very well." He turned, "Good morning Father."

"Draco," Lucius replied. "I have some business to attend this morning, but I will be back in time for the party this afternoon."

Draco knew his parents probably expected him to whine about him not being there. "You'll be there for the party though, right?"

"I will be there," Lucius said, raising his eyebrow.

Draco nodded, and looked down as his plate appeared.

"You aren't upset about it?" Narcissa asked.

Draco frowned at his mother for a moment, "Well no," he admitted. "Harry, I mean Potter; he said that last year his mother had to work and couldn't be at his party at all. I know how lucky I am that Father will be here at all."

"We all know that Mrs. Potter is a mudblood, I think I can provide a better example in parenting than she does," Lucius said with a disapproving frown.

"She made time to see Patrick Potter," Draco said quietly as he picked up his knife and fork.

"Clearly you've spent time talking to Mister Potter," Narcissa said.

Draco shrugged, "We were potions partners, mother. It was either get along or kill each other and we agreed we wanted Os in potion over the death of someone we hated through an intermediary." He poked the sausages with his fork for a moment, and then looked up at his parents, "Is something wrong?"

"No," Narcissa replied, looking over at Lucius, "nothing's wrong."

"Ok," Draco said. Inwardly he was furious with himself, he wasn't twenty-five and independent, he was thirteen and dependent, and if he didn't watch himself, he was still of an age that his father's cane would serve a very painful purpose. He had to be careful about not letting on that he was anyone other than Draco Malfoy, and he had a whole month before Hogwarts to hide that he wasn't who they were expecting to see.

When breakfast was over, Draco watched his father leave, and then turned to his mother, "Is there anything I need to do this morning, Mother?"

"Only make sure you are dressed and ready for your party, Draco," Narcissa replied.

Draco bowed slightly, "I'll be in my room then. I want to revise my potions homework."

"Very well," Narcissa replied.


	3. Afternoon with a Longbottom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Mentions Cutting. He does not physical cut himself, but his thoughts are on the subject.
> 
>  
> 
> Also: Nate is Neville. He just doesn't think of himself as Neville. In later chapters, we'll see Nate start thinking of himself as Neville.

A/N: This is an updated chapter. I changed one of the later paragraphs for the purpose of using it in a different story and inserting something better fit to the overall plot of this story. Trigger warning: Talks about cutting, but he does not actually cut.

* * *

In the woods outside Longbottom Manor, there is an old tree house. It was built by Frank Longbottom and his father as a bonding activity long ago. When Neville became old enough to explore the woods a bit, Dowager Augusta Longbottom, his grandmother, made sure the tree house was a safe as possible so that he might have a retreat of his own. Nate found himself practically camping out there within days of his return to the past. Even with the occasional letter from Evan and Reggie to sustain him, Nate was constantly surrounded with the things that had lead to him snapping and running away in the first place.

Sure, Evan had to deal with being the brother of the boy who lived, and Reggie didn't just have scars from cutting, but neither of them had to deal with the cutting remarks of the Dowager Longbottom.

Nate ran his hand down his arm, feeling the marks where he'd been cutting before his time travel adventure. There weren't as many as there had been the day he'd gotten the dragon scale tattoo, but there were more than enough.

 _You're never really cured of cutting,_  Nate thought as he pushed down on the newest of the thin red lines.  _You just stop, you find something else to do to replace it, but it never really goes away._  The pain of the cut grounded him in all the wrong ways and Nate knew he should stop, but he couldn't.  _I'm not Frank; I'm Nate Long, or Neville Longbottom. I wish Gran could see that._

Nate let go of the scar and sighed. Between his grandmother's disparaging remarks about his grades, and the overheard comments about his all around uselessness, Nate knew exactly what his grandmother thought.  _I wish I were back in Miami. I could go replant a flowerbed, or trim some hedges, or something manual. The house elves would have a fit if I even tried here. Maybe I should build something, I know enough about construction to get by, or I could finally carve myself a set of drumsticks, for practice._

With that thought in mind, Nate scrambled up and headed for the ladder. A soft pop behind him made him tense. "Master Neville sir," a high-pitched voice said.

Nate turned, "Yes, Webber?" He asked, looked down at the house elf.

"Mistress Augusta requests you come back to the Manor. You is having guests, Master Neville." Webber said.

Nate managed a weak smile, "Thank you Webber. I'll head back now."  _So much for drumsticks._

When Nate walked in through the garden door, he was surprised to find Remus Lupin and Harry Potter waiting with his grandmother. "Professor Lupin," he said startled.

Remus smiled a little as Dowager Longbottom stood up, "Neville," she said, "Professor Lupin and Young Potter have invited you to go with them to Diagon Alley."

Nate nodded slightly, "May I go, Grandmother?"

"You may go," Dowager Longbottom replied. "After you get cleaned up. Really, Neville, I thought you were old enough to know better than to get your clothes dirty."

Nate flushed,  _twenty-five and she still makes me feel like a, how does she put it, yes, a feckless gawp of a boy._  "Yes Grandmother," he said out loud. "I'll be back shortly." He raced up stairs to clean up, quickly scrubbing away the last traces of his work on a tiny, hidden garden. It was his sanity, that tiny clump of plants, and he didn't want to risk losing it. He threw on clean clothes and shrugged into an open front robe before racing back downstairs.

They were already waiting in the foyer when Nate hurried back down, "Neville," the Dowager said, and handed him a heavy purse, "Your allowance. You need not concern yourself about school items, but you will not get another purse until your next birthday."

"Yes Grandmother," Nate said and slid the bag into his pants pocket.

Then they were grabbing floo powder from the heirloom silver dish and the green flames tore them away from Longbottom Manor and to The Leaky Cauldron.

Once they were in the busy, but not crowded, tavern, Harry laughed and gave Nate a one armed hug, "I thought she was going to toss us back through the floo with our ears burning," he said.

Nate squeezed back, "Yeah, I can't believe she agreed." He turned to Lupin, "Thank you for this, Professor."

"Not a problem," Lupin said, "It's probably very boring being cooped up in the Manor all day."

They started through the pub, "Where too first?" Nate asked.

"Where else?" Harry replied as he gave Nate the smirk he would deny using, the one that made him  _really_  look like James. "We're going to Olivanders."

Nate swallowed and glanced at Remus, who was opening the gate to the Alley, "We're going to do this now?" Nate hissed in Harry's ear.

"No time like the present, you need a wand attuned to you," Harry replied firmly.

Nate was tempted to protest more, but the look on Harry's face said it all. Harry wanted Nate to get a new wand, and because Harry was the unofficial leader of their group, Nate would do what he asked.

Nate still wasn't sure if Reggie and Evan realized what type of connections they'd built as adults, or how much things would be changed now that they were teenagers again. Nate knew that once the world had been based on clans more than families. The advent of the Romans had introduced change in the world, and after the Statute had lead to their separation from the Muggles, it was no longer important to know who your clan was. No one cared about the blood bonds that tied families together as more than just family. No, today, it was all about the family. Each name rose and fell on it's own, and help came only for a price. Not many people gave assistance to others without compensation. The world no longer worked that way. At least, it didn't work that way according to the government and the so-called Pureblood nobility, and the Muggleborns. The Longbottoms were an Ancient and Noble house unlike the Malfoys, they had the money, power, and the social status that the Malfoys yearned for. Neville should have been raised to become the Lord of Longbottom, a man alone and destined to great achievements for his name. His Grandmother's fear that he was an actual Squib had kept her from seeing to those lessons, and Nate liked to think that he was a new kind of pureblood. The kind that actually gave a damn about people because it was the right thing to do, not because they were his cousin.

He hoped that Harry and Draco would prove to be of a similar mindset. He would have to explain things to them when they got to school, though. There was no point in assuming how the world would work out only to learn that he was living in a fantasy.

"Nev, you alive in there?" Harry asked.

Nate glanced up, "I'm here," he said, looking up at Olivanders shop in surprise.

"Let's get this done then," Remus said, giving Nate's shoulder a light squeeze.

Olivanders' was just as creepy as Nate remembered in his fifth year, when Harry had dragged him to the shop to get his wand after seeing just how poorly matched Neville was to his father's wand. Nate thought he shouldn't have been surprised when Harry had brought him here on their first trip to Diagon Alley this time around.

"Mister Longbottom," Olivander said as he glided from the back of the shop, "a little later than I expected."

"I'm here now though," Nate replied firmly. "I need my own wand; I can't go using my father's wand forever."

"Of course," Olivander said. "Which is your wand hand?"

"I write with both, but I tend to use magic with my right hand," Neville replied.

Olivander studied him for a moment, "Have you tried using your offhand?"

"Once or twice," Neville said, "the response was about the same."

"That is the wand, not yourself," Olivander turned away. "Perhaps you should try to use your left hand this time."

Nate wondered if there would be a difference, but he accepted the wand Olivander offered with his left hand.

"No," Olivander said, reclaiming the wand and turning away.

Almost a dozen wands ended up on the counter before Olivander brought forth a wand that Nate instantly recognized. He picked it up and felt the warmth that came from a perfect match.

"Ah," Olivander murmured, "Cherry wood and unicorn hair, thirteen inches. Yes, yes, very good, very good."

"Thank you," Nate said, "how much do I owe you?"

"Seven galleons," Olivander replied, moving to the register.

With the wand paid for, Nate followed Harry and Lupin back into the street. "Where to next?" Lupin asked, turning to Harry.

"Over here," Harry said, and led the way to a small shop beside Quality Quidditch Supplies. The peeling silver paint read  _Mavery's Music Emporium._

Nate followed eagerly, he'd been in the Emporium once, when he was twelve, and it was exactly as he had remembered. Instruments everywhere, racks of sheet music, all the supplies a musician needed. "Good afternoon," the older gentleman behind the counter said, "how may I help you?"

Harry stepped forward, "I'm looking for a magical piano that is easy to transport, say to Hogwarts, for a friend's birthday. She's always complaining about not being able to practice, so I want to make it possible for her."

"I have just the thing sir," the shopkeeper said. "Come this way."

Nate glanced around and his footsteps slowed as he spotted the drum section. Unlike Harry, who played several instruments, and Draco, who focused on piano and guitar, the only instrument Nate played was the drums. While he was tone deaf, and thus not suited to other instruments, Nate had an innate sense of rhythm that made drumming easy.

Glancing over at where Harry and the proprietor were discussing pianos, Nate walked over to the drum section and began studying the different types of drumsticks.

"I didn't take you for a drummer."

Nate jumped, the pair of sticks he'd been holding hitting the floor with a clatter, "Professor," he gasped.

"Sorry for startling you," Lupin said.

"It's all right," Nate said, picking up the drumsticks. "I was mostly looking." He put the sticks back and shook his head, "There's no organization to these sticks, no labeling."

"Is there one you want in particular?" Lupin asked.

"A 5a hickory," Nate said, "with a nylon tip." He sighed, "I'll just have to wait until I can get a Muggle music catalogue and see if I can't order something."

"Why order from Muggles?" Lupin asked.

Nate shrugged as he picked up another pair of sticks, "A wood tip is nice and all, but I like the sound of nylon. Besides, they don't break like wood might." He shifted down the row and stopped as he spotted an interesting display. "Hello beautiful," he murmured as he picked up the box.

In Miami, Nate had owned, and adored, his magical drum kit. It didn't look like a regular drum kit, being instead a series of color-coded blocks that, when tapped with a drum stick, sounded just like a specific drum. They had even had timpani sets that Nate had rarely used outside of practice but liked. They had been around for a while back then, developed in America in the mid-eighties before arriving in England along with the popularity of Howling Wolves.

Nate checked the price and then checked his moneybag. He could get the kit, which came with specialized drumsticks, but he'd be running short at Hogsmeade all year.

"What did you find?" Harry asked, coming around the corner with a bag in hand, "I found Hermione's birthday gift."

Nate turned the box for Harry to see, "Magical drum practice kit," he said with a grin.

Harry tilted his head for a moment, and then nodded, "I'll pay half, for your birthday."

Nate blinked, remembering how many times they'd made the offer as they scrimped and saved in the Muggle world, "All right." He said now. "What am I buying you for your birthday anyways?"

"Guitar?" Harry offered, "They have some nice ones here."

That meant that Harry already knew the one he wanted. It probably wasn't expensive, and it wouldn't be enchanted in any way. Evan had a history of enchanting his own guitars. "Let's go then," Nate said.

It was a good afternoon, Nate thought later on. The only things missing were Reggie and Anna, and the added presence of Remus had been as much a reminder as Harry's black hair that they hadn't just left Miami for some reason and dropped in on Diagon Alley.  _Next time,_  Nate thought as he stared at his scarred arm in the moonlight,  _next time we'll go together. Evan James, Reggie Black, and Nate Long, together against the world._


	4. Keeping Up With The Potters

Harry watched as another group hurried out of the apparition point carrying stuff for the party.  He knew that Rick was tucked away in the attack with Ron, exploring some old trunks to keep them away from the party, a task that had not required his presence, as Ron and Rick had made it very clear.  Instead, Harry was making his way to his favorite room in the manor, the music room.  Except for the house elves coming in to clean, Harry was the only person in the family to go in there.  He just had to get down the hall without running into any of the party planning people.  Not that Harry really cared about that, they were there to celebrate Rick’s fourteenth birthday, which had nothing to do with him.

Harry glanced up and down the hallway, seeing it was clear, he bolted off the stairs and skidded down the hall, sliding on his socks part of the way and using the doorframe to swing him into the music room.  He pulled the door closed and smiled.  Even in his twenties, Harry loved to do silly things like slid on wood floors.  Reggie had always told him it was ridiculous, but for Harry it was just fun.

Harry pressed his hand against the door and felt the slight vibration that indicated that the room’s silencing ward was in effect.  No sound would escape the room until the door was opened, meaning that Harry could do what he wanted to with no one the wiser.  He turned around, pressing his back into the door and stared.

The music room was filled with carefully stored instruments, each one carefully personalized to its owner with runes, the legacy of the Potters.  The only unclaimed instrument in the room was the grand piano in the center of the room.  Situated on a rug with a red and gold Celtic knot worked into it, the piano gleamed in the light that filled the room.  It had its runes too, runes to channel the power of the player, either harmlessly to bolster the wards or into whatever image the player could picture.

Harry nodded to himself and glanced beyond the piano at the bookshelves filled with sheet music purchased and saved by generations of Potters.  He walked over and ran his fingers of the carefully preserved books, each containing an original score and variations that had been created since, updated by the house elves unless or until the head of the family ordered them to stop.  His finger rested for a long moment on a blue book with the title _Für Elise_ on it.  He pulled it out and carried it over to the piano, studying the different variations before choosing one.  He set the book up on the music stand and slid on to the piano bench, his attention now on the keys.

He reached out touched the F sharp, letting the sound fill the room.  Then he played the D, followed by a combination of G and G sharp.  He smiled a little and slid his hand further over the keys, tapping the E a few times with his right hand before playing out one of the first songs Hermione had taught him to play.  Such an easy melody, played out over the octave, and the first and best piece to learn partner practice with for a young player.  He stopped after a few attempts and set his hands on the proper keys for the other half of the song.  As the bright and bouncy chords filled the room, Harry remember that first summer after Hogwarts, and the day trip that the Grangers had undertaken during their holiday to visit the Potters.  He and Hermione had tricked Rick into the attic and had come here so that he could hear her play “real music.”

Reminded, Harry’s hands stilled for a moment and he stared at the sheet music again, his fingers drifted automatically to begin playing the song he’d chosen.  The clear notes flowed out of the piano, building on each other and striking a resonance in the rest of the room that Harry had never heard anywhere else, as if the stringed instruments were vibrating with the music he played, and then playing their own melodies back to him.

To thirteen-year-old Harry and twenty-five year old Evan, being here, in the music room of the Potter Manor, it was more home than anywhere else was.

The wards broke as someone slammed the door open, “Found him!”  Rick called.

Harry half closed his eyes, focusing on finishing the song before his parents showed up.  His fingers ached at some of the stretches, but he knew that a bit of practice, and a lot of growing, would ease the muscles out again.  He had never fully pulled off an octave stretch even when he was an adult, but he’d never played songs that required it of him either.

“Harry James Potter,” James Potter said.

Harry finished the last measure and turned, “Yes, Dad?”  He asked.

“What are you doing?”  James asked as he stepped into the music room.

“Being quiet and out of the way, sir,” Harry replied, sliding off the bench, “I just wanted to practice a little.  You said Hermione and Neville could come today and I wanted to show Hermione that I could play Fr Elise now.”

James’s lips thinned and he jerked his head, “Your guests are arriving, Harry.  Go put on your party clothes.”

Harry smiled, “Yes Dad,” he said and hurried out of the room.  Rick and Ron, already dressed, were standing in the hall.  “What?”  Harry asked as they stared at him.

“That almost sounded like something,” Rick said after a moment.

Harry laughed, “Yeah, I think that’s the music’s fault.  I want to get some _real_ sheet music though, then it would really sound like something.”

Leaving Rick looking stunned, Harry raced up the stairs.  Maybe it wasn’t fair that he was twenty-five years to his brother’s thirteen, but he figured as long as he wasn’t actively insulting or trying to bully him, it worked out.

Once changed, Harry thumped his way downstairs to find Lily waiting for him with Hermione.  “Must you?”  Lily asked.

Harry jumped the last step with a grin, “One day only, I promise, Mum.”  He waved at Hermione, “Hi Hermione.”

“Harry,” Hermione said with a little nod.

“Is Neville here yet?”  Harry asked.

“Not yet,” Lily said, “you two had better get outside.  As soon as everyone is here, we’ll be doing the cake and presents.  I have to go back into work.”

Harry nodded, trying hard not to let his disappointment show.

“I’m sorry Harry, but this potion is at a critical stage.  I didn’t plan for this.”  Lily said.

“Okay,” Harry said.  He offered his arm to Hermione, “May I escort you to the party?”

Hermione stared at him for a moment, and then hooked her arm through his, “I would be delighted.”

As they walked away, the Floo chimed and Harry craned his head around to see whom Lily had gone to meet.  Neville walked out a minute later, carrying two wrapped packages.  “Neville!”  Harry said and waved.

“Hey Harry, hi Hermione,” Neville replied as Lily took his gifts.  “Thanks Mrs. Potter.”

“Go on with you three, we’re waiting for one more person,” Lily told them.

“Come one,” Harry said.

Neville shook his head, “Are you trying to steal Hermione’s heart now?”

Harry laughed, “Why would I do that?  I want to live to be fifteen.”

Neville laughed as he slung his arm over Hermione’s shoulders, “Apparently someone has a crush,” he told the puzzled Hermione.  “You’ll see.”

They made their way to the back yard, where tents were raised and almost fifty pre-teens were swirling in and out of a variety of games.  “Nice,” Neville said.

“They didn’t let him have horses,” Harry replied.  “That could have been interesting.”

“Hermione!”  Ron said, bursting out of the crowd with Rick on his heels, “Come on, you don’t have to hang out with those losers, and you should see the snack table.”

Hermione sniffed, “I’d rather hang out with these _losers_ than to hang out with you _idiots.”_

Harry tried to free his arm, “You don’t have to,” he said, “If you want to go.”

“No,” Hermione replied.  “I came here to celebrate your birthday.  I mean, yes, Rick as well, but that doesn’t mean I have to watch Ron eat.”

Ron was turning a rather brilliant shade of red that clashed with his hair, “You,” he began.

“All right,” Lily said as she escorted Seamus and Dean out of the house, “everyone’s here.  Time for presents.”

“Presents!”  Rick cried and darted back into the crowd with Ron on his heels, except Ron paused and stared back at Hermione for a minute.

“I see what you mean,” Hermione said with a soft laugh.

“It’s cute,” Harry said, “puppy love.”  Neville cleared his throat, and Harry leaned over to look at him, “What?  That’s what Sirius said earlier.”

Still, Neville was right; he had to watch what he said, specifically around Hermione.  The brightest witch of their year would pick up on inconsistencies faster than anyone other than Snape on a rampage.

They made their way through the crowd to where the present tables waited.  Rick’s table was filled with the gifts that had been delivered by owl for the past week, while Harry’s was filled with the trinket gifts of the party goers, whatever his parents had chosen to get him, and what Harry suspected were the two gifts from Hermione and Neville.

Rick was already pouring over his gifts, trying to pick which one he wanted first.  Harry picked up the small, flat package in brown paper that read _To Harry from the Weasleys._   He watched as Rick began to rip into his packages under view of everyone as he toyed with the tape on the present.

As Rick exclaimed on the box of pranks from Zonkos, _“Thanks Ernie, this is perfect.”_   Harry freed his box and regarded it for a moment.  Then he lifted the lid and smiled to himself.  Mrs. Weasley had sent him fudge.

He remembered now, at the train station last year, he had taken advantage of the distraction of “Rick Potter, the Boy-Who-Live” to ask Mrs. Weasley if it would be possible to get some of her fudge for his birthday.  He loved fudge, and Mrs. Weasley had a very special recipe that he had fallen for after last year when he’d stolen the forgotten fudge from Rick.

Now Harry had his own box, it was perfect.  He reached out as Patrick ripped through his other presents and picked up Neville’s gift.  He smiled at his friend as he freed the paper.  He knew what it was; of course, it was the guitar he’d picked out.

Of course, that’s when Lily “noticed” him.  “What’s that?”  She asked Harry.

Harry opened the box and lifted the guitar out, “Neville’s gift,” he told her.  “I asked him for it.”  Free of the box, the guitar expanded to full size, “One of the Hufflepuffs, Kevin, plays guitar, he promised to teach me if I brought my own guitar.”

“That’s nice,” Lily said, she glanced over at Rick and smiled as Rick waved a broom over his head.  “Now, remember, you have to keep your grades up if you want to play Quidditch, Rick.”

“Yes mom,” Rick replied.

Harry rolled his eyes and reached for his next gift.


	5. Escape the Slytherins

Draco followed his father out of the floo room in King's Cross Station. He gripped his satchel closely as his trunk was levitated onto one of the nearby, self-propelled carts. He scanned the crowds, wondering if Nate and Evan, Neville and Harry, were at the station yet. From the aimless way the reporters were wandering around, Draco imagined that Harry and the Perfect Prat Rick weren't there yet.

Then he spotted the infamous Vulture of Longbottom sailing around a crowd of students and something in him eased. Nate would find a carriage for them, Draco knew. All Draco had to do was lose the bookend goons and push off Pansy. He hesitated a moment, then reminded himself sternly that he might hate the shallow little bitch over the love potion fiasco, but this Pansy was fourteen and hadn't considered it yet. She still thought Draco would marry her willingly.

"There we go," Lucius said as they approached one of the forward carriages. Draco blinked and recognized Crabbe and Goyle with their parents. "We'll just get your trunk settled."

The older Goyle hurried over as soon as he saw Lucius and nodded, "Lord Malfoy."

"The boy's trunk," Lucius said with a negligent wave.

"Of course," Goyle replied. He lifted the trunk and vanished onto the train.

"Now Draco," Lucius said, "this is your fourth year of Hogwarts. In two year's time, you will sit your OWLs. Your studies are more important this year than they were before. I know there will be a great deal of excitement at Hogwarts this year, but you must remain apart from it all. You have all of your life to earn glory, let this one pass you by. Better a living Heir than a dead Hero."

"Yes Father," Draco replied. It was the second time this month Lucius had told him that. The first had been at the World Cup, shortly before Lucius led the Death Eaters to "toy" with the Muggles. Apparently Muggle attacks were something he could look forward to when he was a little bit older.

"Go on then," Lucius said. "I'll see you at the first task."

"Yes Father," Draco said. He gave his father a precise bow and hurried to board the train, Crabbe and Goyle following behind him like a pair of obnoxious shadows. Draco spotted Harry and Rick on the platform when he glanced back they shared a quick look before Draco hurried on to find his Slytherin year mates.

Unfortunately, Draco had to bypass the compartment with Zabini, Greengrass, and the so-called Moderates. They were amusing company when they forgot they had to be  _Slytherin._  Draco's place, for the moment, was with the so-called Conservatives. Crabbe, Goyle, Nott, Pansy, and Bulstrode were all the children of true Death Eaters, and the Little Lords and Ladies of Slytherin. Up until Draco's birthday, he knew he was the Young Prince, Heir presumptive to the Slytherin Leadership. Now, far older than any of them, Draco saw the politics for what they were, and he was determined to more than just another Slytherin Prince, more than just a Conservative, and more than Draco Malfoy. He was going to be above it all and untouchable, and he would achieve that by the most daring ploy a Slytherin could concoct.

Draco Malfoy was not going to play word games or dance to someone else's tune.

He couldn't pull it off now, not with the train in the station and the parents right there. If he slid a toe out of line, left the compartment, anything, Pansy would be the first to yank the window open and announce it to all and sundry. She wanted to be the Princess of Slytherin, but lacked the money that Draco could bring to the table as the Malfoy Heir. She would either marry him or drag him down, which ever saw her to the top the fastest.

As Reggie, Draco honestly admitted that the love potion gambit hadn't been that unexpected of the older, desperate Pansy. Especially if she planned to get an Heir and then do away with him as a rival to her standing.

Draco buried those thoughts behind his Occlumency shields, slammed open the carriage door and surveyed the room like a prince surveyed his kingdom. "I trust your summers were eventful," Draco said after a moment. He strolled in the room and took his accustomed seat, leaving Crabbe and Goyle to close the door behind them.

"Oh Draco," Pansy said, "I had a wonderful summer. Mother took me shopping in Rome! The shops were exquisite."

Draco nodded and looked at Nott, who promptly began a story about visiting his grandfather, the Lord Nott, as the train jerked into motion. They braced themselves against the jerking start, and then settled back as things smoothed out. Draco let the conversation flow around him, inserting appropriate commentary when needed, but he let his attention stray often to the window. As soon as the last of the outskirts of London faded away, Draco stood up.

"This has been fascinating," he said, allowing a hint of sarcasm to color his tone, "and I will leave you to your stories." He fastened his gaze on Crabbe and Goyle, "I have no need for an escort to the W.C., stay here until I return."

"Draco," Pansy said.

"This is the Slytherin carriage," Draco said pointedly. "I do not think I will come to grief walking down the hallway." He left the carriage and slid the door pointedly shut. He walked down the hallway until he was out of sight of the door and then, seeing himself alone, hit the door with a delayed locking charm. It would hold them for about ten minutes. Long enough for Draco Malfoy to vanish and Reggie Black to join his friends in a compartment at the end of the train.

He stopped by the bathroom long enough to trade his black shirt for his white uniform shirt and changed his hair from the required Malfoy-white to a darker, and shorter, style. A minor adjustment to his jaw line, and making his eyes blue instead of grey and a younger Reggie Black stared at him from the mirror. It was a thing of moments to make him look even younger, more likely to be mistake for another first year, and Reggie was ready to venture out.

He escaped the Slytherin carriage unseen and quickly made his way back through the train. Although some of the other students looked at him curiously, Reggie wasn't stopped as he hurried to join his true friends. When he entered the last train car, Reggie released a sigh and hurried down to the door. A quick glance inside showed that Nate and Evan were alone and Reggie threw the door open. "Gentlemen, we may have a problem."


	6. Reaffirmation

“What kind of problem?”  Harry asked sharply as Reggie slid the door closed.

“Is it the kind of problem we have to kill someone over?”  Nate asked.  When Reggie and Harry stared at him, Nate shrugged, “It’s a valid problem guys.”

Harry sighed and shook his head slightly.

“We forgot about occulmency,” Reggie replied.  “Snape won’t hesitate to read our minds as soon as he gets a chance.”

“We could just kill Snape,” Nate offered.

“You’re exceptionally blood thirsty today,” Harry said.

“I’m just looking for something to _change_ ,” Nate said.  “The only excitement I had this summer was Gran’s house elf finding my drumstick catalogue and Gran getting upset that I was interested something so _Muggle.”_

“What did you tell her?”  Reggie asked as he sat beside Harry.

“I told her that Dean was a Muggle-born who loved drums and I wanted to get him a birthday gift since he’d gotten me one.  She accepted it.”

“Right, so Occlumency,” Reggie said, “I’m rubbish at it and Snape knows it.”

Nate nodded, “Do you think he’ll read your mind?”

“The moment I do something he’s not expecting from a fifth year Draco Malfoy,” Reggie said.

Harry crossed his arms, frowning.  “Do you have blockers?”

“What?”  Reggie asked.

“Blockers,” Harry said, “they’re magical devices that prevent people from reading your thoughts.  They’re considered a training aid for the development of certain abilities.”  He pulled his shirtsleeve back to reveal a metal band with four emeralds set into it.  “I found this in the attic with a bunch of other aids.  Dad didn’t even react when I asked him if I could have it.”  Harry shrugged and pulled his shirt down.  “It’s supposed to help me with my music, so I can cover by saying that.  Everybody knows the Potters have Music Magic.”

“I don’t know if my dad would let me have something like that,” Reggie said carefully.

“You could ask,” Harry said.

Reggie frowned, “I just need a reason to do so.”

Harry frowned, “The book that was with ours, that explained mine to me, it said we had one that was a study aid but could also be used to shore up weak occulmency when a student is in the beginning of his studies.  Tell them you have learned of such study aids, and you want one to help you prepare for OWLS.”

“I think that will work,” Reggie said slowly, “I’ll owl Mother and ask her.  If it’s for my studies, I’m sure she’ll help me.”

“Great,” Harry said.

“Harry, about the tournament,” Reggie said, “are you sure?”

Harry nodded slowly, “I’m going to risk it.  If they don’t think of me and Prat Rick being twins and possibly being both bonded to the Goblet, then I’ll get busted in the Restricted Section with the book.”

Nate didn’t like Harry’s plan any better than Reggie did.  If Harry’s bond to Rick made them both bound to the Goblet, as had happened the time before, and nobody thought of it, as had _almost_ happened before, then Harry would have a risk to his magic.  He would then have to risk a great deal of trouble to acquire a book on magical bonds that would point out to all and sundry that he was possibly bound to the Goblet by Patrick and their bond.

Last time, it was Reggie who had been caught with the book by McGonagall, and his meeting with the headmaster had sparked the need to test Harry.

Nate thought that Harry counted the Goblet as the worst wonderful experience of his life.  Because while working with Rick had been difficult given their uneasy relationship, having an opportunity to spend time with his brother and working together had been good for Harry.  That being said, the close teamwork that would again be required would leave them vulnerable.  There was a possibility that someone, even Rick, would realize that there was something different about Harry and his friends.

Harry thought it was a risk worth taking to keep things normal.  Nate thought it was a risk they could avoid.

“Are you sure we can’t kill anyone?”  Nate asked.

“No,” Harry and Reggie said.

“We can’t risk it,” Harry said, “people dying would be a dead giveaway that something wasn’t right.”

Nate grinned, “I’m just joking Evan.”  He paused, “Harry, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Harry said, “I’m not used to thinking of myself as Harry either.”

“Tell me about it,” Reggie said.  “I thought my dad was going to figure everything out five minutes in because I kept slipping up and acting like Reggie and not fifteen year old Draco.”

“Can we risk letting people know how close we are?”  Harry said, “If it’s that hard to keep track of things.”

“I can’t,” Nate said.  “I can’t be alone, Evan.”  He turned his arm over, “I almost started cutting again.  I need you guys.”

“Hey,” Harry said, leaning over to squeeze Nate’s arm, “Don’t worry, Nate.  We won’t abandon you.  Just let me know if it gets bad.”

“Let us know,” Reggie said, squeezing Nate’s knee.  “Just because we don’t share a dorm doesn’t mean I won’t be there in a heartbeat if you need me.  All you have to do is scream.”

Nate sighed, “Sorry guys, I don’t mean to be weak.”

“You aren’t weak,” Harry said, “you’re stronger than either of us when you need to be.  Besides which, you’re a badass drummer and guys dig drummers remember?”

Nate had to smile at the memory.  “Yeah, they do.”  He paused, “Oh can you imagine Nate Long loose at Hogwarts?  So many boys, so little time.”

“That’s the attitude you need to have,” Reggie said.  “Remember that tattooing charm?”

“How mad will your grandmother be if you get in trouble for having tattoos?”  Harry asked.

“Maybe it will be the wakeup call she needs to realize I’m Nate, not Frank.”  Nate said.  He glanced at the others, “All I need to decide is who to pick first.”

“Let’s start with the tattoos,” Harry said, “then we’ll pick targets for your conquests of Hogwarts.”  He reached down and picked up his wand.  “What do you want first?”

“I want to cover my scars,” Nate said.  “Let’s go with dragon scales.”

Harry nodded, then tapped Nate’s wrist, _“Signare.”_

Red and gold scales slipped up Nate’s arm, spreading outward from Harry’s wand tip.  Harry smiled and then reached out to tap Nate’s other wrist, _“Signare.”_

Nate smiled at the red and gold scales in the style of a Chinese Firebolt.  “Well?”  Reggie said.

“It’s perfect,” Nate replied.  “It’s exactly what I needed.”

“Wonderful,” Reggie said, “I need to get back before someone thinks my disappearance is suspicious.”

“Don’t get in trouble,” Harry said.  “We just have to get through this year.”

“Until later,” Reggie said as he slipped out the door.

“Bye,” Nate said, distracted by tracing the pattern on his arm.


End file.
